


Second Chances

by sparkly_butthole



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Dom Bucky Barnes, Down for whatever Natasha Romanov, Dumpster fire Clint Barton, In-scene negotiation, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sub Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole
Summary: It was unorthodox back then, but they'd wanted to. Then Bucky had fallen and Steve had gone under, and so had the fantasy.But they've got another chance, and this time, they're not letting it get away.Written for the 2020 MCU Kink Bang!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98
Collections: MCU Kinkbang 2020





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boparadise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boparadise/gifts).



> Here's my contribution to the MCU Kink Bingo. It's wonderfully filthy and I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> My artist did a tremendous job. To boparadise, thank you for being an awesome bang partner. I love your interpretation of the scene and I'm lucky you picked me. :D
> 
> Also thanks to DarkCaustic and cobaltmoony for squeeing and support - as always, you are both amazing friends and human beings - and my beta, Arke. Fandom would be a much lonelier place without you, bab. <4
> 
> *throws filth at you all*

[ ](http://imgbox.com/dMxGfksP)

  
  
  


Natasha Romanov considers herself the world’s best spy. It’s not bragging, it’s just the truth. She can put a metaphorical puzzle together like an idiot savant. When it comes to understanding human behavior and the motivations behind it, she’s a fucking star.

Which is why she’s kicking herself up, down, and sideways for not realizing it sooner. 

“He wouldn’t do that. He’s not that kind of guy.”

Clint’s perched on one of the gym rafters, catching his breath after Natasha had chased him around the room and then pummeled him until he’d yelled for mercy. And then she’d only relented when he’d promised not to steal her German chocolate cake. Again. 

“He’s really, _really_ not that kind of guy,” he says. 

“Well, it’s not like I was in a relationship with him or anything,” she points out. “We never decided we were exclusive.”

“No,” Clint replies thoughtfully, “but based on the little communication you’ve had on the subject, I’d say Steve wants more than sex. He just thinks _you_ don’t want more. So cheating would be even stranger. Yet I’m pretty sure this would count as cheating, at least in his book.”

Without looking up from her seat on the mat, she points straight at him. “So you think the problem is that we’re not communicating like adults,” Natasha says, voice laced with amusement.

“Yeah. I know. Don’t take dating advice from Hawkeye or you’ll regret it. Even though I’m right,” Clint mutters at the end. He ponders her for a few moments, long enough for her skin to begin tingling. Well, he’s either pondering her or fantasizing about thieving cakes and pairing them with different beers, lagers, and ales, which is what she actually caught him doing. She shudders. 

Natasha finally has enough and glances up at him, the corners of her mouth turned down. “What.”

“How do you end up in these situations? Being cheated on by Captain America.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out the uniquely-resigned sigh characteristic of those in charge of handling Clint Barton. “He’s _not_ cheating, we just established this, and you got your ass beat by a teenage Russian mobster half your age. I found you in a dumpster on Saturday.”

“I can’t help being interesting.”

“Mm. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Look, Nat,” Clint says, jumping all the way down from the rafters and landing on his feet like maybe he was a cat in a past life, “you should just go talk to him.”

Natasha cocks her head and gives him a _duh_ look.

“... Or you could mess with his head. Also an idea.”

“I knew you’d figure it out.” She pats him on the head on the way out and swears she hears him purr.

  
  


***

  
  


Two days later, Barton corners her, looking for information. Or gossip, really, because he can’t keep his nose out of shit sometimes. Not that he isn’t well-meaning, it’s just… she’s in an antique store when he does it. He’d actually tracked her while she was _shopping_. Who does that?

_Clint._ Clint does that.

“So,” he says, casually walking beside her down an aisle filled with ancient cookware and lighting fixtures. Her annoyance is somewhat muted by the fact that he’s forced to stay a half-step behind her in order to avoid knocking everything onto the floor. Last time he’d done that, she had decided never to pay for his bumbling mishaps again, so hey - at least he’s minding his Ps and Qs. Maybe he _can_ learn something new. 

“So?” she asks, pretending to be extremely interested in the biggest decorative _faux pas_ ever. Holy shit, the tassels on this thing. Who knew flannel could be used to make _lamps_ ? This is the poster child for _just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should,_ and she wants it so badly she can taste it.

“Did you talk to Steve yet?” Natasha closes her eyes and wills herself to remember how much she loves him, because _boy_ does she need it from time to time. He continues, oblivious to her pain. “It’s been two days. I know you’ve got a scheme cooked up, at least.” 

She turns a sharp corner, and the direction change catches Clint off balance. He bumps into the rack of women’s clothes in the opposite aisle before hurrying back to her side. It’s hard not to snicker, but she manages. Barely.

“I think I figured it out, actually.”

Clint visibly perks up. “Oh?”

“They were together before. Actually, no. Strike that.” She hums, reconsidering. Once she’d seen them kissing, it hadn’t taken her long to realize how often and how _intensely_ Steve had stared at Bucky. She just hadn’t realized the nature of his longing. And it’s been four months since Bucky came back to Steve. 

“They weren’t together?” 

“No. I think they wanted to be. _Steve_ wanted to be, at least. I think this is new for them. Maybe caught them by surprise... the opportunity, I mean.”

“So you think it was just one time? Just a kiss? That’s no fun.”

She ignores his pout and seriously considers the question. By now, they’ve moved on to women’s clothing and accessories. There’s a ‘60s era cocktail gown that is startlingly green. It’ll match her eyes. Maybe she’ll wear it to Tony’s next fundraiser for the rich and psychotic. The parties are tedious, but her presence always garners more money, and the perks of being a cash cow for Tony Stark are fantastic. Like a lifetime supply of German chocolate cake that she is now prepared to defend with her life. 

“Yeah. And given the way he’s been looking at me the last few days… Hmm. He knows that I know. And he doesn’t know how to address it.”

She pulls the dress from the rack and holds it up to her body, then stares expectantly at Clint, who rolls his eyes. 

“How come we never got together?” she wonders aloud. “I could wrangle you a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t be a challenge,” Clint points out. 

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

He follows her like a lost puppy to the checkout, amicably catching the dress when she tosses it at him in her quest to dig her credit card out of her purse. “I think you like making your life more difficult.”

“So you’re saying you’re easy?” 

“Like you even have to _ask_ that,” he responds, clearly offended by the idea that he could be anything _but_ easy.

The cashier glances between them and decides to keep her mouth shut. Nat’s not even sure the woman recognizes them, despite their faces being plastered all over the news. Not to mention Nat’s shocking red hair. Maybe the girl’s just not up to date on celebrity culture. 

Ugh, she _hates_ celebrity culture.

They make their way to the subway, jostling through the rush hour crowd. Despite the crush, people give them a wide berth, yet they still don’t seem to recognize the two Avengers in their midst. Okay, so she’s well aware that people can unconsciously sense danger, but she must be slumming it more than she’d thought. 

Well, Clint’s presence certainly raises that likelihood. 

“How’s Kate?” Nat asks.

Clint glares. Predictably, it does not intimidate Natasha in the least. “Don’t change the subject.” 

“Why are you so nosy about this, anyway?”

“Other than me being my charming self, you mean? Mostly because we haven’t had a mission in three fucking _weeks_. I’m stewing in boredom over here.”

“So you decided to gossip, then,” she responds drily, settling herself on a hard subway bench and handing her bag to Clint, who once again takes it without conscious thought. Seriously, fucking him - hell, maybe even _dating_ him - would’ve been so much easier. People seem to think she has no romantic bones in her body, but the truth is a little more complex than that. Sure, love is for children, but there’s something to be said about loyalty. 

Is that what she’s after? If so, it’s news to her.

“I do care about you, you know.”

“Sure have a funny way of showing it sometimes. You realize you followed me to an antique store.”

“Three weeks, Nat. _Three_.”

“What’s your point, you giant pain in my ass?”

“So go talk to him. I know it’s bothering you.”

“Relax. I just want to approach the situation the right way. Steve spooks easy sometimes. And I know he’s not cheating.”

Clint nods, then reaches into his pocket to pull out a piece of _cold pizza_. Oh, Jesus wept.

“I agree,” he says with his mouth full. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“So why are we still talking about it? Why are we talking _at all_ right now?” she asks, exasperatedly and emphatically gesturing at his stuffed cheeks.

Clint finally, _finally_ shuts his trap.

  
  


***

In the end, she decides to talk to Bucky. It’s not because she doesn’t trust Steve to tell her the truth, or because she’s afraid of how he’ll react, it’s just that Bucky’s terse communication style is a bit easier to deal with than Steve’s earnestness. As much as she cares about Steve - and she does, _deeply_ \- it can be a bit much sometimes.

She corners Bucky leaving the communal kitchen at three o’clock in the morning. It’s not uncommon for him; sometimes he likes to haunt the compound in the middle of the night if he doesn’t feel like dealing with company. Which is often. 

“James,” she says just as he turns away from putting the milk back in the fridge. She gets an eyeful of several things at once: his Fruity Pebbles cereal ( _yabba-dabba-doo!_ her mind supplies helpfully), the outline of his cock through his _why are they that fucking thin is that really necessary_ boxer-briefs, and the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Whoa. You’re lookin’ a little rough.”

He doesn’t jump, though she’d hoped to make him do so - hey, it’s a fun game, trying to sneak up on super soldiers or hypervigilant people. Even better when they have both. Might as well make a game out of the depressing weirdness that is their lives. Instead, he stares at her like he’s looking straight through her. 

“I see you’re in a great mood,” she supplies brightly. “Whatcha got there?” 

“What’s it look like?” he asks, clearly over it and ready to finish this conversation so he can go back to… pouting, or plotting assassinations, or whatever he does when he can’t sleep. 

“Depression food, if I had to guess.”

Bucky shrugs. “If that’s what you wanna call it, sure.” 

“This isn’t good for you.”

“Doesn’t need to be.”

“You’d feel much better if you went to the gym with us every now and then. I know you’re not ready to join us in the field, but…” Nat trails off when he rolls his eyes. 

“What do you want.”

To the point, then. Well, she did seek him out for that purpose. “To talk to you about Steve.”

It’s nearly imperceptible, the way his spine straightens and his back goes tense and his breath speeds up. Only someone trained to notice those things could possibly perceive them. “What about Steve?”

“I think you know.”

Another sigh. She wonders idly how much sleep Bucky’s actually been getting. “What’s it to you? And how’d you know anyway? It only happened once.”

She’d like to avoid giving away her advantage, but that little tidbit is hopelessly vague, and she needs to know. Besides that, she’s damn curious. “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘it.’”

Bucky gestures tiredly to the sofa. “Why don’t we have this conversation where I can get comfortable.”

“I hope you’re not planning to take off more clothes. You seem pretty comfortable to me already.”

“Funny,” he mumbles around his first mouthful of cheap cardboard cereal, brushing by her to the couch. “You’re an absolute riot. I’m rolling on the ground here.”

If Natasha were someone else, she’d probably smack him upside the head. But if she were someone else, she wouldn’t get away with that. Few people can boast that the Winter Soldier would turn his back to them, and she doesn’t intend to betray that trust.

She settles next to him on the couch and waits out the silence, which is broken only by the sounds of chewing. It occurs to her that the noise is actually quite disgusting, when you think about it, but she’s spent so much time eating with Clint that Bucky’s habit of chewing with his mouth closed and not talking through it is a refreshing change of pace. 

Bucky finishes the cereal and relaxes into the sofa, head resting against the back of it, eyes closed. Natasha waits him out. If he wants to be a brat, she can be patient. 

Eventually, he pops one eye open to stare at her like some weird nocturnal lizard-creature, then groans theatrically. “Are you seriously still here?”

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me. You can complain all you like. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“Yeah, I guess if I couldn’t get used to that, I’d have died of it years ago.”

She considers him, head tilted to the side. “He seems to leave you alone when you want it. Even if he walks out of here with sad puppy eyes.”

“Well, he’s not a barnacle like some people. More like a… I dunno. Some kind of chronic virus, maybe. Always there, just not always showin’ his face.”

“Wow,” she says, actually amazed. “You just compared your best friend to AIDS. And I thought I’d seen it all.”

“You know what I meant.”

“This isn’t the kind of conversation I was referring to when I said I wanted to talk about Steve.” She considers that. “In fact, I wish we’d never had this conversation at all.”

“You talk to Clint all the time.”

“Point.”

Bucky lifts his head and looks at her seriously. “You want to hear about the kiss, then.”

“For starters.”

He blows out a long breath. “That would… uh, take a long time to explain. Not sure where I should start with it.”

“Wherever it’s relevant.”

“Right. Well. I guess me and Steve always wanted it. My brain’s still a little patchwork, but I know that much. We were, ah… kinda into the same things.”

Natasha raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I have no idea what that means. In fact, I have more questions than answers now.”

“We wanted each other, okay? The timing was just… never right, I guess. Plus, you know, 1940s. And when we finally got our heads out our asses, I kinda fell out of a train. So...” He trails off, and Natasha can see he’s lost in his head, probably reliving that unfortunate memory. Which is definitely not where she wants this conversation headed. Quite the fucking opposite, in fact.

“I already know the answer to this, but I’m going to ask just in case. Steve’s not the type to cheat on anyone: yes or no?”

Bucky’s eyes grow wide with surprise, then narrow into slits. He’s adding things up. Any second now. Aaaaaaand…

“You’re shitting me.”

“Not even a little,” she says with a shake of her head.

“He’s double-dipping? You _think_ he’s double-dipping, at least? Were you _dating_ dating? Or just sleeping together?” Bucky leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees while he laughs tiredly into the nest of his hands, tickled by this revelation.

Natasha’s beginning to regret every choice she’s ever made. She bites her lip and pretends to be on a beach in the Caribbean. “Not that it’s your business, but as far as I know, it’s been for the sake of mutual satisfaction.”

He laughs harder. Tears are streaming down his face when he pulls his hands away from his mouth. “Oh god, my ex is friends-with-benefits with my other ex.” 

“ _Are_ you exes? Or something else? ‘Cause that’s kinda the point of the whole conversation here.”

Barnes leans back again, gets comfortable in the corner of the sofa, one foot on the floor and the other on the couch. She can see the outline of his dick even clearer now, details she remembers intimately. He’s fully awake now, studying her with bright, flirtatious eyes that dig deep into her soul.

Natasha always was a sucker for a man with eyes like the sky, more fool her. Especially dangerous ones.

“You remember bein’ with me, sugar?” 

“What game are you playing here, James?” she sighs. 

“No game. No goddamn game. My cards are on the table.”

“Well, I think you’re gonna have to read ‘em to me, because they aren’t in any of the languages I was taught. And I know a lot.” 

“I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” That’s much better than trying to decipher meaning through flirtation. She’s too fucking tired for it. Besides, they’d already done that a couple of decades ago, and he’d been better at it back then. That, or she’d been younger. In need of kindness, which he’d had in spades. He was one of only two people who had taught her to be human. No matter how annoying Bucky can be, she still doesn’t regret a single thing that had passed between them. 

Might even be open to more, depending on what kind of ‘proposition’ this is.

“Remember how I said we had similar interests?” She nods. “Well, Agent Carter did, too. And I think we could make this work, if you wanna give it a shot.”

She hums in pleasure. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

And oh, what he’s thinking is absolutely _divine_. 

  
  


***

  
  


Steve opens his eyes. The lack of light isn’t much help, but based on his internal clock, he’s thinking it’s around four o’clock in the morning. Too early to get up. Much too early. 

He rolls onto the floor and groans. Sleep comes slow and doesn’t stay long these days. Almost four weeks with no Avengers-level bullshit going on in the world is too damn long. Not that he’d ever complain about peace and safety, but his body isn’t cut out for this. It needs a crisis. _He_ needs a crisis. 

He snorts unattractively as he turns on the shower. Bucky’d once told him that not everything had to be a crisis, that he could stop and smell the sunshine - Bucky’s words, not his - but Steve figures Erskine chose him to be Captain America for a reason. Namely because he’s not quite right in the head. 

It has its upsides and downsides.

The shower is warm, _so_ warm, but he keeps it perfunctory. No need to waste water, no matter how well Tony’s waste recycling project is coming along. Old habits die hard sometimes. Like not smelling the sunshine. 

After breakfast, he heads down to the gym. It’s five, and the others aren’t due until seven. Plenty of time to get warmed up.

It’s hard to admit, but Steve knows the real reason he’s having trouble sleeping. What the hell is he going to do about Natasha? He’s come to care for her a great deal in the past year, far more than he has any business doing. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Doesn’t want to lose her company, either, sexual or otherwise. 

But there’s Bucky. What kind of fool would give up a second chance like this? 

They’ve both been teasing him lately, too. Subtle glances from Natasha, considering ones. He loves the way her head tilts slightly when she’s deep in thought. Her face never gives much away, but Steve’s been there when she’s lost it. When she’s lost it because of _him_ , when she really lets herself go and gives him everything she’s got. It’s a fucking honor, is what it is. She hasn’t been to his suite in over a week, but she’s not suddenly uninterested or anything of the sort. On the contrary. Her hands linger on his shoulder a second or two longer than they need to when they’re working out logistics at one of Stark’s terminals. Her smile is sweet and sharp and secret, still only for him. 

Bucky, on the other hand, hasn’t flirted with him even a little since their impromptu kiss. But he hasn’t been distant, either, instead falling into the role of Steve’s best friend like he’d never been gone. Bucky’s still losing sleep, even though he won’t admit it, but the impact of those hot, kiss-swollen lips on his and the secret taste of him had bridged a gap neither of them knew existed. They’re both getting better just by being around each other.

While he’s deep in thought, two hours fly by in a blink, and Steve is still no closer to figuring out what he wants, let alone how to get it, when everyone starts filing in. Natasha’s first, making her way into the gym fully dressed in that fucking hot uniform, fiery hair cascading around her shoulders in a way that should be illegal. It reminds him of Peggy. Two women he’ll never deserve, not in a million years. 

She gives him a high five and a slap on the ass before settling down on her haunches a few feet behind him. The back of his neck tingles, but he doesn’t acknowledge her stare. Two can play at that cat-and-mouse game. 

Clint and Kate file in next. Clint immediately finds his way into the rafters, climbing pieces of equipment with a glee typically reserved for five-year-olds. Katie rolls her eyes at his antics and settles in beside Natasha. They start discussing shoes - open versus closed toe, flats versus platforms versus classic heels - while Clint picks his nose, not even bothering to hide it. 

Tony’s off doing… whatever it is Tony does when he visits Europe on a whim, but Pepper Potts and James Rhodes enter the gym in their suits. Rhodey sticks to his trusted Warmachine armor, but Pepper looks like a million bucks in her new getup. It’s Iron Man-sleek, but with hips that accentuate her modest curves nicely.

The helmet hisses when it retracts, and she returns his smile. “Steve. It’s so nice to see you.”

“Pepper,” he says, stepping forward to shake her hand as best he can through the armor. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Well, Rhodey decided I needed to practice working the suit, and what better way to do that than with people I trust? Though I will admit to being a little nervous… I’m not used to this superhero stuff.”

“Nonsense,” Colonel Rhodes says from behind her. He puts a hand on her shoulder plate, which she reaches back to squeeze. “I’ve seen you fight people Tony wouldn’t touch with a hundred-foot pole.”

“Politicians,” she insists. “They don’t count.” 

“Trust me, they count. Anything that can make Tony Stark shake in his boots is scary, okay? He went through a damn dimensional portal.”

“Don’t remind me,” she says in the voice of someone who has completely given up on talking sense into a loved one. Steve can sympathize. Bucky can probably sympathize even more. 

“Who are we missing?” he asks. “I know Sam wanted to come, but he told me not to wait for him in case he couldn’t. I’d hoped Wanda would show up, though.”

The big iron door swings open, and Steve turns, expecting to see her as though he’d somehow summoned her, but is instead greeted by the sight of Bucky, who is walking through the door like he’s petrified of what’s to come but ready to face it head-on anyway. And Steve’s not sure, but when Bucky looks at Natasha, his back straightens a little and he walks a beat or two faster. 

Steve’s nervous with excitement, but on the outside he’s still and calm as ever. “You sure about this, Buck?” he asks softly when Bucky’s standing in front of him. 

“Yeah. I mean no, but let’s do it anyway.”

“Gotta make that leap sometime, right?” 

Bucky huffs out a breath. “Guess so.” 

“Alright. Everybody, listen up! Let’s head down to the lower gym. Since we’ve got Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes with us today, we should work on taking them down. Last time we fought airborne enemies, it didn’t exactly end well.”

Clint groans and slaps his head, sticking a booger right at the hairline. Steve’s not sure if he should mention it. He doesn’t consider it that heavily, because he’s very much not an asshole, and he usually leaves Clint’s shenanigans up to Nat. Truth be told, he’s not sure he’s hit that pay grade yet. 

“Don’t remind me.”

Natasha snickers. “You’re the Hawkguy. That one’s on you.”

“But we’re a _team_ ,” Clint protests plaintively. “Isn’t that what Steve’s always telling us?” 

“ _Hawk_. It’s right there in the job description.”

“Cap throws a shield, though. And it’s not like you don’t have ranged weapons. And Tony! Tony’s in a _flying suit_ , for god’s sake.”

“You have a booger on your face.”

Clint scowls and searches for it, patting his face down like he’s a TSA agent, and ends up being about as useful. Everybody, even Steve, watches with amusement as he runs a callused hand along his jawline. 

“C’mon, Nat, put him out of his misery,” he says. 

“Nah. I like this.” 

Clint finally finds it, then pulls out a handkerchief and cleans it off his finger. 

“You had one of those the whole time?” Katie says, amused, delighted, and not a bit astonished.

“You’re surprised?” Nat asks her, standing up and reaching to pull Kate after her.

“Not at all. Can’t say I’m not disappointed, though.”

_Well, at least he’s forgotten the argument_ , Steve thinks. He’s ready to put them all through their paces. They joke, but the last fight they’d gotten into truly had been a disaster.

  
  


***

Bucky nails it. 

Steve watches as Bucky spars with Natasha to warm up, takes up Clint’s bow and nearly beats him at a shooting contest, then brings Rhodey down with a lot of backup and a little bit of luck. Steve can’t help but grin at the cheers and the bashful look on Bucky’s face when he bows. 

Then he watches Natasha follow him out the door and wonders if maybe what he’s thinking is possible. They’d almost done it before, after all. It seems too much to hope, but… it’s not like Nat is the most vanilla person Steve’s ever run into, and she’s certainly open-minded about this kind of thing. She’d have to be, given her training, which is a thought that gives Steve pause. He doesn’t want to coerce her into something she’s not into. He just has to be ready to accept the consequences, should he decide to inquire.

Well, nobody ever called Steve a coward, that’s for sure. And he trusts Natasha to remain professional if things go south. 

He’s pleased when Natasha invites him to her suite for dinner, moreso when he discovers Bucky will be there, too. Not that he plans to bring it up tonight, but it’ll be good to see how they interact and if there’s any sexual tension between the three of them. Plans change on the fly, too - he wouldn’t be a good leader if he couldn’t roll with that truth. 

Steve shows up a few minutes early, hoping to get a second alone with Natasha, but Bucky’s already there. Natasha gratefully takes the wine Steve offers, then directs him to the small couch in the overly spacious living area. It looks sad and out of place there, but she’d insisted. Two people in her space is more than enough; anything larger would invite others. 

He cocks his head questioningly, looks at Bucky making food in the kitchen and then at Natasha. She usually cooks for them if they decide on eating at home; Steve’s never been much for cooking, although he’d tried it an annoying number of times until Bucky (back then) and Nat (now) threw in the towel and let him be. He still feels a bit left out, though. 

“Just relax,” Nat says. “I’ll be back in a bit with some more wine.”

Steve nods and settles in. He hates to admit that he enjoys being taken care of - growing up during the Depression tended to do that to a person, especially if that person struggled to survive even when the economy was good - but now that he feels like he actually makes a difference, it’s alright to take the load off every now and then. And he suspects that he plays the same role in Natasha’s life, if in a different way. 

Steve takes the offered glass with a murmured thanks, then breathes deeply, appreciating his healthy body the way he tries to do every day. He’d gotten a hell of a workout today, and despite his post-training shower, he can still feel the grit of sweaty salt on his skin. It feels fucking amazing. 

“Bucky did great today. I’m proud of him,” Steve tells Natasha, staring into his wine glass. 

“You should tell him that.”

“I should, but you know how he’ll get. Shy and grumbly. Hard to get him to take a compliment sometimes.”

“Mmm,” Nat says, a study in nonchalance. “I think it’s kind of cute.”

He looks up, regards her for a moment. She’s smiling a Mona Lisa smile. Giving away nothing. Steve’s better at reading her than most, but right now all he can tell is that she’s hiding something. His heart pounds a little harder than normal. Is it possible that she knows about his desires? She’s the world’s best spy, after all. 

“I guess it is,” he ventures cautiously. Testing the waters. Despite having done this before, the butterflies are having a clan meeting in his stomach. If anything, he’s more nervous this time around. It had worked out perfectly with Peggy, at least until, through no fault of their own, it hadn’t, but that was then. Natasha is a whole different ball game. 

Nat scoots closer to him on the sofa, close enough that Steve can feel her heat. The kevlar suit has been replaced by dark blue pajama bottoms and a light grey t-shirt with a smirking cat emoji and the words _play with me_ written below in comic sans. She doesn’t appear to be wearing a bra, either. He can’t help but picture the creamy skin underneath, the little patch of freckles above and to the left of her breast, the slightly raised mole underneath her right armpit. 

When it occurs to him that he’s been staring at her chest, he turns bright red and looks her in the face. Natasha’s eyes dance with amusement. It’s not like there’d be hard feelings on her part, but Steve still feels a wave of shame overtake him. His mama raised him better than that. 

Before he can open his mouth to apologize, she rests a delicate hand on his bicep. He makes a small, embarrassed noise, but respects her silent plea. And he’s not a hundred percent sure, but she might shiver with pleasure a little when he makes that sound. 

And now he’s getting hard. Great.

His face is still red when Bucky arrives with food. It’s spaghetti with marinara sauce and homemade meatballs, simple stuff, but one bite and he’s forgotten all about his not-so-little situation. This is good fucking food right here. 

He puts away three plates of it before leaning back once more, hand on his belly. “Jesus, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

Nat nods with a groan. “Feels like I gained a hundred pounds. I didn’t know Barnes could cook like that.” She’s got a bit of marinara at the corner of her lips. Steve barely stops himself from reaching out and thumbing it off, because that would lead to leaning in for a kiss, and then who knows where they’d be?

_Somewhere good_ , the devil on his shoulder whispers.

On the other side of Natasha, Bucky looks at her incredulously and not a little offended. “Why wouldn’t you think I could cook like that?” 

She pats his knee. “Don’t take it personally, big guy. Guess with all the scrambled eggs in your brain I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Steve nearly spits out the wine he’d been sipping, which would be a shame since Natasha has excellent taste. The finish on this stuff is phenomenal; he wants to smell it on her breath, taste it on her tongue, and Jesus _Christ_ does he need to get laid.

Bucky just smirks playfully, and Steve is reminded of dozens of girls in dance halls who’d fallen hard for that look. He can smell the fresh popcorn at the cinema, feel that surge of jealousy he’d always had when Bucky had given that look to a girl on their way in, knowing that she’d be licking salt and butter from Bucky’s lips right next to him. Sometimes the girls would even climb into Bucky’s lap and grind against him, trying not to moan and get them thrown out. 

That jealousy had gotten him into this mess all those years ago. Listening to Bucky’s heavy breathing, the arousal growing between his legs, jealousy coursing through his veins at the same time… the signals had all gotten mixed up somewhere, and before he knew it, he was lying in bed jerking off to the sounds of Bucky playing with or going down on his dates. He’d never fucked them, not as far as Steve knew, but the wet sounds their sex made and the sharp breaths, gasps, and whispers of Bucky’s name had always been more than enough for both of them. 

He starts getting hard again as he watches his friends eye-fuck each other in the midst of their snark fest.

“I think you should cook for us, too. Make it a game, see if you can beat me. What do you think, Stevie? How good is she?” Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off of Natasha. 

Steve swallows hard. “She’s… she’s pretty good, Buck.” His voice is steadier than he’d thought it would be. A small mercy. 

“He’s not lying,” Natasha murmurs, leaning in toward Bucky. “I can prove it, too.”

“Oh yeah? Tonight, sweetheart? Sure you’re up for that after all we’ve eaten?” 

Nat chuckles, rich and deep. Goosebumps break out along Steve’s arms. “I can put away more than you’d guess.”

Bucky bites his lip. Nat is close enough to him now that he has to look down at her. Then he - _fuck_ \- reaches out to thumb at the spaghetti sauce on her lip, and before Steve can blink, they’re kissing. Bucky holds on to the back of Nat’s head, effortlessly directing the intensity with which she kisses him. She makes a frustrated, somehow delighted purr, and damn, but she’d never let Steve get away with something like that. He’d always end up fucking her brains out, sure, but on her terms. 

Bucky pulls back a bit, breathing hard, and then tilts Nat’s head so he can make eye contact with Steve. Then he winks, and it’s all over for Steve. He can’t pretend this isn’t what he wants. He groans, throws his head back, and runs a hand down his abs before undoing the button and zipper on his jeans. God, it’s been over a _week_. It’s like his body is rearing to catch up.

“Huh-uh,” Bucky says firmly, pushing Nat to the side a little so that he can smack Steve’s hand away from his fly. “That’s not how this is gonna go.”

Steve can’t help it. He whimpers, sounding wonderfully pathetic to his own ears, but doesn’t try to move his hand back. Nat shuffles and then leans in to give him an open-mouthed kiss as a reward. He’d been right - the Malbec on her hot breath is enough for him to drive his hips upward, desperately in need of friction. But she pulls back, not giving him the satisfaction. 

“You guys planned this,” he pants. “You sneaky assholes.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know you kissed him?” Natasha asks him, voice full of mirth. “You’re dating the world’s best spy,” she adds drily. 

Steve opens his eyes and stares at her, slightly worried. Though if tonight is any indication so far, he has nothing to be worried about. “You’re not mad?”

She runs a finger up his arm, following the prominent vein of his bicep. “I know you better than anyone except maybe James. You’re not a cheater.”

“I dunno, most people would take that as cheating.”

“I put the pieces together. James pretty much confirmed it. Spur-of-the-moment thing, almost a century of denied lust? I think I can forgive that.”

“Besides,” Bucky adds, “we’ve got the best ideas on how to punish you for it.”

Steve lets out a slow breath, feeling his cock harden even more, surely past the point of what’s healthy. “You were there, too. Hardly fair.” Not that he wants it to be fair, of course, but he doesn’t say that. He knows Bucky will point that out right in front of his lover, further shaming him. 

“Aww, sweetheart. You know that’s not how this goes. We’ve been over it before, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Steve asks, a bittersweet note in his words.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, reaching out once more to grab Steve by the chin, forcing Steve to meet his eyes. “We missed that chance. Now we’ve got a new one.”

“And Natasha’s okay with it?” he asks, moving his gaze to her radiant face. “I’ve gotta be sure.”

“I know,” she says. “And I am. More than. But we’ve gotta work out the rules before we take this further.” Bucky slides his metal hand through her curls, making her shiver. “Much further,” she amends.

It’s all a blur after that. 

Steve is directed to lie back against the armrest, legs splayed in front of him, one on the floor and the other buried in the cushions. He’s not permitted to touch himself, or Natasha or Bucky, unless given permission. They make him get undressed first, though, staring unashamedly at his naked body. His skin is flushed from head to toe, his arousal jutting proudly in front of him. He gets the urge to cover it in embarrassment, even though they’ve both seen him nude hundreds of times, though Bucky never quite like this. 

But he doesn’t, because he can be good and listen to directions. When it suits him. 

_Just don’t tell Fury or Phillips_ , he thinks with a giggle.

Nat raises an eyebrow at him but says nothing. Bucky distracts her by leaning up on his knees behind her to kiss her neck, sucking on the spot just below her ear that drives her wild. Steve itches to taste her there, too, to take up a spot on the other side of her. His hips twitch, precome oozing down to the bottom of his cock, threatening to drip onto the couch. 

Bucky slowly removes Natasha’s clothing, piece by piece. Steve had been right - there’s no bra underneath that adorable shirt. Her nipples are fully erect, large and full in the midst of those tiny brown areolae. She lets Bucky take each into her mouth, bites her lip while he suckles on them. But he doesn’t spend too long teasing her breasts, instead choosing to stand her in front of him and slide her pajama bottoms down her legs so she can daintily step out of them. Then he pulls her against him, placing wet kisses along her abdomen. She laughs when it tickles, so carefree and beautiful and _young_ it makes Steve’s heart ache. 

Bucky pulls her back down and manhandles her so that she’s leaning back against Steve’s lap, the top of her curls brushing the bottom of his cock. It takes all his considerable willpower to avoid bucking up for more friction, but he manages, instead focusing on what Bucky’s doing to her. 

Bucky lifts her legs over his shoulders and bites the inside of her thigh, making her back arch. She’s aching for it, already incredibly turned on, almost like she gets after a tough fight when her adrenaline’s high and she needs a productive way to come down. And Steve is more than happy to provide… though it looks like Bucky’s gonna be in charge of that from now on. 

The thought alone is nearly enough to make him come untouched.

Bucky bites Natasha’s thighs hard enough to leave bruises - Steve remembers what that had felt like, too, the few times they’d fooled around, though it had never gone below the belt. He’d nearly melted, which is what Natasha does in his arms. 

“Run your fingers through her hair. Nice and slow. Give her head a massage. Your job is to make sure she gets as much pleasure as possible out of this. Understand?”

_Jesus God_ , he thinks. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.”

Steve does as he’s told. At the same time, Bucky starts eating her pussy. Most of her is tucked in, small and delicate; Bucky has to push through her outer lips with his tongue to tease her. She reaches a hand into his hair and pulls, not trying to guide him but just holding on. She’s sensitive as hell, able to come with a stiff breeze, provided she’s in the right headspace. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, but Bucky won’t care about that. He’s more assertive than Steve when it comes to this stuff - obviously - so he’ll probably go down on her for as long as it takes to completely wear her out. 

She moans and throws her head back when Bucky pulls her lips apart with his fingers. Her head pushes against the base of Steve’s cock; he has to stop himself from voicing his own pleasure. Maybe Nat will enjoy hearing it, or maybe not. On occasion, she’s enjoyed toying with him, making him stay silent while she gives him a suckjob. This is about her pleasure now anyway, so he forces himself to stay focused despite the throbbing sensation coursing through his dick. 

Bucky licks her everywhere, starts off teasing, tongue running up and down her inner lips. He gently, _so_ gently, flicks her clit with his tongue. Her eyes close as she holds in a gasp, still not to the point of letting go. Sometimes it takes a while for her to relax; Steve figures that, no matter how turned on she is right now, this is a new enough situation for her to need a little time. He massages her head a little more, scratches her gently. Her whispered _Steve_ makes him close his own eyes and swallow hard. 

Jesus Christ, it really does feel like he could come just like this, not a single stroke to his cock. 

Bucky moves forward a few inches and settles in with his knees hitting the armrest, calves in midair. Steve can’t see what he’s doing any longer - his nose is up against her closely-shaved pubic mound. It’s _seriously_ fucking hot, knowing that Bucky is amping it up with every swipe of his tongue like he’s a professional. 

Natasha tightens her grip in Bucky’s hair, urging _use your fingers, yeah, just like that_ , then bucks her hips when Bucky complies. They stutter as she approaches climax. She comes silently, eyes open wide and staring at the ceiling, blind to it all. Predictably, when she tries to pull Bucky away from her sex, he just digs in deeper. She groans helplessly, twitching with overstimulation, until suddenly it becomes pleasure again and the waves of her second orgasm hit. This time, she makes a sound, something that Steve would describe as pure sin, if sin made noise. 

Steve’s cock is forgotten, mind in a haze as he watches Bucky do this over and over and over to his lover - _their_ lover. He feels every shudder that runs through her as if it were his own. His own orgasm is unimportant. Her pleasure is all he needs.

“Christ,” he breathes when Bucky finally pulls back. His face is absolutely covered in her juices. Steve wants to taste her on his mouth so fucking bad. 

“C’mere,” he says, sounding winded as though he’d been the one getting off like a fireworks display. “Let me taste her. Please.”

Bucky grins and leans over Natasha, who is staring off into space. No one home. It’s the look she gets when Steve’s really rocked her world, and he’s amazed that Bucky could pull that off without even fucking her. 

They kiss, wild and passionate. Bucky lets Steve take the lead, since it seems like this is all Steve gets tonight, whimpering a little when Steve grabs him by the hair with the hand that’s not buried in Nat’s. He feels a flood of light-headedness, the victory that comes with knowing that Bucky is not at all unaffected by all this, no matter how well he maintains his composure. 

Steve’s face is wet when he pulls back for air. He licks his lips and just breathes through it. 

“Hey, boys,” Natasha says. “Quite the show there. Let me pay you back, James.”

He glances down at her, meets her eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“No. But I want to.”

“And Steve?”

“He’ll just have to keep watching if he wants to earn an orgasm.”

_“Fuck_ ,” Bucky sighs. “Sounds good to me.”

Steve’s struck absolutely fucking speechless when Natasha makes it a point to get on her hands and knees with her ass in the air. Bucky gets comfortable on the other side of the couch, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out with a gasp. He’s probably just as hard as Steve; the only difference is that he’s about to get off, and Steve? 

Well, Steve’s probably not going to be allowed. It’s a punishment, after all, though he wouldn’t exactly call it a _hardship_.

He can’t see much of what Natasha’s doing to Bucky, but he can imagine it well. Eidetic memory has its drawbacks, but this is not one - the way it feels when Nat uses the combination of suction and her rough-soft tongue to make Steve thrash his head from side to side. She knows how to keep him going, too, will edge and edge him until he comes, pulsing down her throat. Then she’ll just swallow him whole for those few seconds of regeneration he needs to get it back up, and he’ll be in her throat once he’s at full mast. 

Then, oh _then_ , she massages his cock with her throat, tightening the muscles, swallowing around him, and usually, his second orgasm hits him like a brick to the head, even stronger than the first. It’s not like that when he uses his hand. It’s so much better. _So_ much better. 

And Bucky gets to feel that right now. Steve wonders if Bucky’s version of the serum allows for multiple orgasms. He hopes so. The man deserves every orgasm that can be ripped from him after what he’s been through. Steve would happily give up his own to make it so.

Fortunately, orgasms are not zero sum. Both of them can have as many as they’d like. But sometimes, it’s nice to pretend otherwise. 

Bucky’s in the middle of absolutely losing it, and he’s just as gorgeous as Natasha, so fucking beautiful it makes Steve’s chest hurt, even in the harsh artificial light. His rich brown hair somehow makes him look older, not in a distinguished way, but in the sense that he’s come so far from the boy Steve used to love. But those eyes are the same, grey and unknowable, just a little shadowed, but displaying a little more happiness every day. Seeing him in this much pleasure rocks Steve to his core in the best of ways.

What really catches his eye, though, is Natasha. Her back is smooth, free of blemishes or scars, save one that she’d gotten on an op with Clint a few years before she’d met Steve. He reaches down to trace his hand across it - a couple of inches long, just above her right kidney at a diagonal. Natasha moans around Bucky’s cock, but Steve doesn’t get in trouble for touching without permission. 

Her ass is right there, too, round and pert and perfect like the rest of her. She’s wet down the top half of her thighs from her own arousal. Steve can see that she’s still leaking clear fluid, obviously just as turned on by pleasuring Bucky as she had been when he was going down on her. 

Steve licks his lips, still tasting her from when Bucky had kissed him. He wants more, wants to slide his finger, two fingers right into that gorgeous slit and crook them just so; with the number of times she’s come today, it’d probably make her scream, or come close to it, anyway. He keeps his hands off, one gently rubbing her scar, the other clenching rhythmically against his thigh, which is almost as wet from precome as Natasha’s by now.

Bucky’s hips have started lifting off the couch. Steve’s not sure he’s even aware that he’s fucking Nat’s face, but she clearly doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, in fact, if the increased arch of her back and the way her hips sway back and forth are any indication. 

Bucky comes with a long, low groan. His own hand clenches just above her head, fighting to avoid pushing her head down further down. There’s not much remaining, as far as Steve can tell, but he understands the urge. 

His orgasm seems to go on forever, and Steve can understand that, too. After so much teasing, he’s ready to blow like a volcano. The wet sound of Natasha swallowing Bucky’s seed makes Steve close his eyes for a moment, wishing he were the one Nat was tasting. Wishing, too, that she never lets him have her mouth again, that she would deny him that pleasure now and forever, since Bucky’s there to give her that satisfaction. It’s a strange mix of emotions, an entirely new world for him - for them - to explore, and it makes him happier than he’s been in a long time.

His dick, of course, is not in agreement.

Bucky pulls Natasha toward him, situating her so that her back is pressed against his chest. They’re both sweaty and tired and so, so pleased with themselves. 

They stare at Steve, still on display for them - he hasn’t been told to move yet, so his legs are spread and his balls hang low and full. Painful now. Bucky kisses Natasha’s temple and then whispers in her ear, loud enough that he knows full well that Steve can pick it up.

“What are we gonna do with him, hmm? You think he’s earned the right to get off?”

“Mmm.” Nat considers him. Steve feels exposed, vulnerable. Like she’s measuring his worth and finding him wanting. “I don’t know. On one hand, he did really well today. Didn’t touch when he wasn’t supposed to, except that one time, and I think I can forgive that. On the other hand…” She gestures as though weighing two things against each other. “He did kiss you without my permission. And then didn’t tell me about it.”

“Nat, I was gonna-”

“Silence,” Bucky commands. “Let the lady speak.”

“Thank you,” Nat says primly. “I think he’s going to have to wait. This time.” It’s said with an air of finality, as though daring Steve to argue the point. Which, to be fair, he can’t. They’ve fulfilled a fantasy he’s had for years, instead of Nat breaking things off. Tonight could’ve gone a lot worse. 

“When.” Steve licks his dry lips and clears his throat. “When can I come?” 

“Tomorrow morning. But you’ll come in front of us. Putting on a show while we fuck. Sound good?” Bucky asks.

It’s like he can’t get moisture in his mouth. Jesus, he needs water. “Yeah,” he responds roughly. “Yeah, that sounds… that sounds great.” 

“It’s settled then. Afterwards, we talk about it. Set the ground rules.” Nat and Steve signal their agreement. 

“It’s almost time for bed,” Natasha says when Bucky goes to the kitchen to wash up. “You wanna stay the night?”

Steve meets her eyes, surprised. She’s never let him stay before. It’s always her in his suite, and she’s always gone by morning. “You want me to?”

“I do. I think our relationship has moved to another level tonight, one way or another.”

“Yep,” Steve agrees. “That it has.”

“You know, I never thought you had it in you, Rogers.”

“Give me more credit than that. I haven’t exactly been boring, now, have I? Now come here so I can touch you.”

She crawls across the couch to snuggle against his chest. His cock is still poking her hip, and he winces with a puff of air when she jostles it. 

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry in the least. “Something we can do for that?” 

Bucky comes back into the room, carrying… what looks to be the answer to his current problem. An effective one, Steve’s guessing, though pretty much guaranteed to not be fun. He catches the iced towel when Bucky tosses it at him.

“Take care of that,” Bucky says, pointing to Steve’s flushed cock. “No coming.”

They watch him while he does it. He gasps when the frozen towel touches his cock, more in astonishment than anything else. He had been a human icicle, after all. This is nothing compared to the Arctic water. It does its job, though, wilting Steve’s dick like a sad flower. The relief he feels at the loss of arousal doesn’t quite combat the ache in his balls, but he’ll get to see quite a show in the morning while he gets himself off. 

It’s totally, one hundred percent worth it. 

Nat and Bucky each take one hand and lead him to her bedroom. The bed is… huge, surprisingly, considering how minimalist Nat prefers other areas of her life. Which is a good thing, because she’ll be sleeping with a tank and a brick wall tonight. 

He suddenly realizes he’s exhausted. This will probably be the best night of sleep he’s gotten in a long time. Between training, dinner, and mind-blowing sex, it’s been his best _day_ in a long time. 

They lie on either side of him and lay their heads against each of his shoulders. Tomorrow might be complicated, dealing with the aftereffects and the looming conversation about how this will all work. Steve has a feeling things are going to be great, though, and while drifting off to sleep his only regret is that he doesn’t get to spend more time appreciating the moment, this thing he’d never thought he’d have, two people that he loves dearly taking good care of him. 

But the future starts tomorrow, and Steve is all in.

  
  
  


[ ](http://imgbox.com/I8GPcRpW)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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